A Good Girl’s Guide To Having Underage Sex

Are you missing out?

You don’t HAVE to wait until you are over sixteen to lose your virginity. I lost mine last year age fourteen. So did Andrea my sister: She’s was only twelve. We’ve had sex with several guys – and some of them paid us.

Bet you wonder what it’s like eh? Is it really as good as they say? Are you missing out? Did it hurt first time? – I guess if you are like most other teenage girls you have loads of questions. Well maybe I should tell you how it started for Andrea and me.

Actually it’s over a year ago: Mum got a part-time job at the local Wal-Mart. She’s a single parent because Dad left us when I was four. Mum’s job was re-stocking shelves and she worked from six to nine each evening.

We didn’t like it at first – being left alone each night. For one thing, Mum always helped us with homework but she hadn’t time when she got the job. But then Uncle Freddy came to our aid. He upgraded his computer and gave us his old one to do our homework on. He set us up on the Internet so we could get help and information from there.

That was great fun and we found all sorts out that we never knew. Being Catholics and going to St. Catherine’s Girl’s Convent School we missed out on stuff other kids enjoyed. The Nuns were very strict – so is Mum – so we missed out on hearing all the Pop Groups and never got to see any good films. Only when Andrea found how to work the Chat-Room thing did we get to have friends show us how to listen to music and download the lyrics, and they even sent us copies of Harry Potter books and stuff. It was there I met Jenny.

Jenny was fifteen and came from Wisconsin. She joined our chatroom one evening and asked if any of us girls came from Oregon as she was moving there with her family after she finished school next year, and wondered if any of us knew what it was like. Well we live in Portland so I told her I knew a little about Oregon.

She was really excited about that and we went to a private chatroom to talk together.

Well I was pretty careful – even if she was a friend. Uncle had warned us that we must NEVER give our phone number or address, or real name on the Internet because he said that there were men that could get hold of private emails and find things out that they shouldn’t. When we first started chatting I warned Jenny about that, and told her she shouldn’t tell people where she was going, because Uncle Freddy said girls could find themselves in real trouble if they gave out personal details.

After meeting her on the internet we chatted every night together. Andrea hated that because she said I always hogged the computer. In the end she told Mum. After that we had to promise to share equally, and not spend more than thirty minutes each on line each night.

It was a Friday night Jenny first took me to a private chatroom. It was quite a surprise really when a separate chat-page popped up and it said I’d been invited to join HAPPIGURL in a private room. I looked and gave it a try, typing in,

“hi its littlelilly”. And hit the enter key. Back came the reply,

“hi 2 u. ta  4 cumin. u live in oregon?” I answered,

“yep. how old r u?”

“15”

“im 14. u got any bros or sisis?”

“1 sis of 12”

“I got a sis 12 2”

We chatted a bit longer. I told her to be careful what she said about moving and stuff. She thought that was smart of me, and we agreed to chat next night. I felt quite elated as I didn’t have any girlfriends out of school. And naturally I had no boyfriends then.

I’d only been on line a minute next night when the chat-box popped up inviting me to join happigurl. I answered eagerly,

“hi happi. u ok?”

“yer. y u called littlelilly? u very small, ha ha”

“no im 5’ 6”. Wen we tell lies mum calls em little lilies – so.”

“hey that’s cool. what u lyk best at skool?”

“music. I play violin. and games – im hockey captn. Wot bout u?”

“musics good. I lyk sports am goalie in hockey. Lyk biology hate maths.”

We chatted most every night after that for the next few months. Once we’d got really friendly she told me her real name was Jenny. I told her mine was Kate, but we agreed never to use them on line, just to be safe. Jenny said she went to a State school and there were always loads of boys pestering because she had big boobies and had to wear a 36B bra. I told her she was lucky as at St Catherine’s we only had girls, and anyway I was only 34A.

Last November she was really excited. A UK pop group called HOTRODS was playing in Milwaukee and this boy had got tickets and asked her to go. She said they were really cool and they were touring the US. She said if they came to Oregon I should go to see them.

“Fat chance of that” I told her.

“y”

“mum ud never let me go even if they did cum to Portland”

“tuff. maybe u cud sneek out”

“u jokin. got no cash anyway”

“get a bf  and let him pay”

“I shud b so luky, lol”

With Christmas coming we talked lots. I told her mum was working an extra hour for two weeks as the store was very busy. The extra money would be a big help. Jenny wanted to send me an Xmas present but she said she could hardly post it to ‘Kate in Oregon.’ We laughed over that and I told her to save it until she moved house. We just sent each other email cards.

First week back to school after Xmas vacation, Jenny emailed me some photos of herself and one of her new boyfriend: He was 15 and looked a bit of a drip to me, especially as Jenny looked very attractive I thought. I sent her one I liked of me and Andrea outside the house. I still hadn’t a boyfriend but there was this boy that I sometimes saw waiting for the bus. He went to the State school and he always looked at me. He started to smile, and one day as I passed he said ‘Hi Honey’ to me. I didn’t say anything, but when I looked back he was still watching me. I’d never been out with a boy but I didn’t think I would mind having a kiss with him.

That evening I had some good news and some bad news for Jenny when we chatted.

“gess wot – we r in the semi’s”

“tel me more” she replied

“we played st hildas and won 6-2”

“grate. u score?”

“no. we play Tillamook here nxt Friday”

“u better win that then.” She replied. Then I told her:

“I got a bad scare last nite”

“wot u meen. wot happened”

“I think I was followed home”

“y u think that. U see anybody.”

“no but wen we leev skule we cross over and walk down grange st then down whites lane 2 home. andrea had gone on earlier.  wen I went I herd footsteps followin both down grange and down whites.”

“u been watchin scary films on tv, lol”

“no. wen I stopt they stopt. Wen I hurrid they hurrid. There was som1 im sure”

“well u didnt c nobody so u imagined it. u want 2 play a game – truth or dare.”

“ok. u go first”

That was all on the Thursday. On the Friday we played Tillamook. Our juniors had made the semi-finals of the under twelve’s league and had been drawn at home too. Because the juniors were playing first, we didn’t bully off until four thirty. They lost 3-1 but we expected to win easily because they had two of their best forwards and their keeper all absent with flu. It wasn’t as easy as we thought; it was nil-nil at half-time.

With both teams playing there was quite a crowd watching us, and one man in particular caught my eye. I knew him from somewhere but couldn’t think where. He smiled as he caught my eye. Though he wore glasses and had a ginger moustache and must have been as old as Mum, there was something very attractive about him.

All through the second half I was aware he was watching me. Once, in a quiet moment I glanced across at him and he smiled broadly and waved a hand. When towards the end I received the ball and made a good run down the wing and Mildred our centre forward met my cross and scored, he hopped up and down clapping excitedly.

That was the only goal and it was enough to take us through to the final. As the final whistle went the home crowd roared and clapped and we did a bit of spontaneous celebrating ourselves. Then amid exuberant chatter our team showered and I headed outside to meet Andrea. To my surprise she stood chatting to the man with the ginger moustache.

As I hesitated in surprise he hurried forwards and throwing his arms round me swept me off my feet and swirled me round exclaiming,

“Well done, well done Kate. That run of yours down the wing and perfect cross won the game.” Putting me down he gave me a hug and kissed my cheek. Then holding me at arms length he stared and smiled at me saying,

“Goodness Kate, how you’ve grown! It seems that only last year you were still a child.” Andrea added her congratulations as I’m sure in my confusion I blushed. It was then his smiling face creased into a frown as he apologised,

“Oh I’m so sorry. Kate. I don’t think you recognize me. When you smiled back at me during the game I was sure you remembered me. Silly of me, I should have realized you were only a toddler then of three or four. How would you remember?”  Andrea blurted out,

“It’s Uncle Henry – Daddy’s brother. He just flew in from North Carolina. To him she urged,

“Show Kate the pictures, then she’ll remember.” And to me again,

“Uncle Henry is staying with us a few days.” As she was speaking he took a couple of photos out of his pocket and held them for me to see:

“Look, that’s one I had taken when I was over for the week-end last year. I missed you as you spent that week-end with Gran if you remember.”

As I looked at them and saw one was of him and Mum snuggling together laughing in the Mal, and the other showed Mum laughing with him on one arm and another man on her other, he pointed out –

“That’s Paul. You wouldn’t know him Kate – he’s a colleague of mine.” He replaced the photos and announced:

“Come on you two. We can’t stand here all night it’s turning chilly. We’d better get home and give Miriam – give your mother the good news.”  I was in a bit of a whirl: the excitement of the game, meeting Uncle Henry – Now I knew why he’d looked familiar. Checking my wristwatch, the time showed almost six-0-clock-

“Mum will have left for work already; she knew we’d be late back tonight.”

“Not at all Kate: What with my stopping over and her hoping you would win and we could celebrate, Mir – your mum phoned in to call off work tonight.” He reached to take my hand and Andreas –

“Come on you guys, let’s get home and give her the good news. Our car’s over there.”

It was a red Pontiac convertible. Opening the front passenger door he bowed and waved us in with an elegant gesture saying,

“Please take you seats young ladies.” With a flourish he closed the door and tripped round to open his own and start the engine. I was surprised when he turned right instead of left on leaving the school, but before I got chance to query it he pulled up at an all-night drugstore.

“Sharn’t be a moment. Just pick up some drinkies. I expect your mum won’t mind you having a little bubbly to celebrate, because you don’t have school in the morning.”

He returned with a brown paper bag from which the sound of glass upon glass emanated. He placed it on a rear seat and laughed,

“There we are, now it’s ‘Home James and don’t spare the horses’ I guess.”

Waiting for a lull in the traffic he spun the car round and headed back. In less than two minutes we were in Whites Lane, and moments later pulled up onto our driveway. It was clear. Mum had obviously garaged our car as she wasn’t using it that night. As we made to get out, Uncle Henry put his finger to his lips to indicate silence:

Get out quietly, and we’ll sneak in and surprise your mum. I expect she’s watching television. I’ll pick the drinks up later – once you’ve told her the good news.” As we got to the door he whispered,

“Open it a quietly as you can, then we’ll creep in and shout Surprise, surprise.” Fitting my key I heard Andrea whisper to turn it really softly. It made only the slightest of sounds and yielded open under my pressure. The other two crept inside; retrieving my key I joined them as they waited. Uncle Henry motioned for me to go first and Andrea to follow. As I reached the lounge door and prepared to open it, I checked back to see the other two were ready-

-It was then my nightmare began:

To my horror I saw that in the few seconds I’d taken in moving forwards, Uncle Henry had put tape across Andrea’s mouth to silence her and had already managed to bind her legs together too. As I opened the door and started to scream he hurled Andrea to the floor and lunged at me. His fist met the side of my head knocking me almost senseless. In moments he’d taped my mouth, and pausing only to knock Andrea back to the floor, he taped my ankles together and my arms behind my back. Leaving me on the floor he slapped Andrea cruelly across the jaw as she tried to free her mouth to scream.

Grabbing her hands roughly, he forced them behind her and taped her wrists. At that moment I heard another car pull into the driveway. He’d heard it too. He sprang to the door and I could see he now held a small revolver in his hand. I jerked involuntarily as the sudden sound of the doorbell broke the momentary silence. It was a short ring followed by two slightly longer ones. Uncle Henry pocketed the gun and opened the door to allow five men of assorted ages and sizes to file through. Closing the door he urged,

“Let’s make this quick. At most we’ve got three hours for everything. Who’s got the camera?” A weedy man of maybe fifty indicated he had it ready.

“Okay. Get a couple or three frames of them tied up on the floor, and then a couple of you grab the girls and carry them upstairs. I want the lot on film. The stairs are that way.”

Even in my fear it struck me how well he seemed to know the house layout. What followed is mostly a blur of pain and hazy nightmare memories. I do recall the constant foul language all the six used, and many of the lewd and lustful looks and comments as they ravished our bodies.

We were tossed onto Mum’s bed. Leaving our mouths taped and amid the direst of threats if we made a sound or resisted in any way, our hands were release in turn. One man produced some sets of handcuffs and cuffed each of our hands in turn to the bedrail above our heads as we lay side by side.

Next, one of them produced a large pair of scissors and deftly cut each article of clothing from our bodies. Every movement was being filmed. Stripping away the severed clothing left us completely naked.

Despite their threats I couldn’t refrain from struggling, but this merely sought to excite them. Our legs were unbound and then tied by thin rope to the bottom bedrail. The six then stripped naked and took it in turns to ravage us…

It seemed to go on for ever as I drifted in and out of consciousness. Dimly I was aware of the tape being ripped from my mouth and men abusing me there as others abused me below. I was turned over and assaulted. At times my body was being invaded by three men at a time. I was aware that Andrea was being subjected to the same treatment. My choking, gagging, struggles only further excited them.

Through the mist and pain I heard Henry call,

“That’s enough. We only have a few minutes left. Just time to do the fun shots.” Thence started our final ordeal as various vegetables and other item - bottles and things - were introduced into us to be filmed. We were dragged and joined together by longer articles inserted between us. Mostly Andrea was either unconscious or moaning almost silently, and retching. I think I was doing the same. I could see her small breasts were blooded, as were her thighs. I knew mine must be the same… some of the men had left some screwed up dollar bills on the bed. Whether this was ‘conscience money’ – or they were just taking the P - I will never know.

I awoke in terror and screamed and fought frantically for some while before I realized it was my Mum trying to cuddle me…. After that it was Doctors, Police, Ambulance, Hospital… lots of drugs, examinations, pain….

After three days I was allowed out of hospital and taken into care by the Local Authorities. I heard the same had happened to Andrea but I never saw her again until a couple of months ago. We haven’t seen Mum since that night: She was taken to Court for leaving us home alone and she’s not out on parole yet.

Now is a good time to repeat my opening paragraphs:

Are you missing out?

You don’t HAVE to wait until you are over sixteen to lose your virginity. I lost mine last year age fourteen. So did Andrea my sister: She’s was only twelve. We’ve had sex with several guys – and some of them paid us.

Bet you wonder what it’s like eh? Is it really as good as they say? Are you missing out? Did it hurt first time? – I guess if you are like most other teenage girls you have loads of questions. Well maybe I should tell you how it started for Andrea and me.

To answer those questions:

What’s it like? – It was like living Hell for us.

Are you missing out? – I REALLY hope so for your sake.

Did it hurt first time? – You bet it did. And every time they did it – except whilst I was passed out.

As I lay in that hospital I wondered how my supposed ‘Uncle Henry’ could know so much about me and my house and family… and those photos taken with my Mum!

At the Hearing Mum said the guys had approached her and her friend in the parking lot to ask if they could have some fun photos to send their pals. Mum saw no wrong in it – just a bit of fun – and obliged.

So how DID that ‘Henry know so much?

The Police questioned me endlessly to get a clue. When asked I told them ‘YES’ I had been in ‘CHAT ROOMS’ but that I had been especially careful never to give my proper name or address or phone number, or anything personal to anyone. So far as I knew, only Jenny knew my name was Kate – and nothing else.

The Police examined my computer hard drive and extracted every bit of information I had typed in the chatrooms – even that I thought was deleted. They pieced together every conversation I’d had with Jenny. When they showed me the result I was utterly astounded! – I had unwittingly passed on endless scraps of information which pieced together could reveal most all my family history, and details of my school and home.

Just taking the last few entries most anyone could have found me.

Right at the start I said I was 14, that I lived in Oregon, was 5’ 6”, and had a 12 year-old sister called Andrea. I said I went to a Convent school – St Catherine’s, was hockey captain, played the violin, wore a size 34A bra.

I’d said if that group came to PORTLAND Mum wouldn’t let me go. I’d even sent him a photo of Andrea and me outside our house!

I’d mentioned I walked to school and even named the route I took to go home. I’d said we were a single parent family, that Mum was out from 6-9 and later 10 PM. Every evening.

I’d mentioned about how Mum had this Brass bedstead but that Andrea and I had beds with drawers underneath. In fact there was little I’d missed telling.

I should have taken heed when I thought I was being followed, and told Mum and the Police – for there is no doubt it was him sussing things out.

Okay, all this information had been given mostly in small fragments of conversation spread over a year or more – but paedophiles and rapists can spend years cultivating a victim and gradually drawing information out of them without arousing their suspicions.

Their favourite ploy is to pose as a young girl, or teenage boy in chatrooms looking for a friend. ALWAYS there is some innocent, gullible sucker they can latch on to. (In ‘Henry’s case I was that gullible sucker.)

Paedophile groups are happy to plan for years. If there are (as was in this case), six in the group, then if it takes on average twelve months to con someone like me, that means that if each are doing it on a regular basis then they can organize a session like they did with Andrea and me every couple of months. They can satisfy their own perverted animal lust. (In our case that was only for some three hours – but in some instances it can be days or weeks the girls – or boys – are kidnapped for, and most end up dead, but we were lucky). Having temporarily satisfied their lust, they help finance their exploits by making pornographic films of the whole action. And sell ‘stills’ of the other things they subject the victims to. These items are passed around or sold in seedy dives and even screened in secret.

The moral of this story is that you can NEVER be too careful in chatrooms.

You can NEVER be sure if your longstanding friend in a chatroom is REALLY a thirteen-year-old girl or boy – Or whether in reality they are a forty-five year-old man seeking to rape you or worse. (They may even be Police Officers setting a trap.)

If YOU frequent chatrooms please bear in mind the fate of KATE and ANDREA (not our real names) – and take extra care.

If you are a parent – show it to your children.

If you are an adult with no children, then point friends that DO have children in this direction so they can read it.

I WAS stupid and gullible. As a result I lost my virginity, and got stuck in a Children’s Home. Worse than that, my stupidity led to my younger sister suffering the same fate. It led to my lovely Mum being sent to prison.

As I write this my little boy Keith is sat in his playpen. He will never know his father. I love him so much – but am so afraid he may grow up to be like his father. Which one of those six is his parent I will never know!

It is of no consolation that Andrea did not fall pregnant and have a child – she will never have a child as her womb was damaged and she had to undergo a hysterectomy.